His Centerpiece (Drabble)
Title: His Centerpiece
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Word Count: 495
Notes: Round 2 Challenge #6 - Another Character's Perspective - written for dramione_ldws.
His Centerpiece
“Seriously, Draco, you can’t do that.”
“And why not, Granger?” My son’s response is as snarky as always, but the twinkle in his eye doesn’t go unnoticed… by me anyway.
“Because,” Hermione answers with a smile, “if Pansy catches you hovering her centerpieces filled with priceless, and rare, phalaenopsis, nymphea coerulea and neomarica caerulea, she will have your head on one of those shiny, silver platters.”
I want to chuckle as Draco rolls his eyes, but stop myself when he gently drops the floating vases anyway. “Leave it to you to give them their proper names, Granger,” he mumbles.
Watching them work together has become one of my favorite pastimes over these past few months. Preparing for Pansy’s wedding has been more… enlightening… than I could ever have imagined.
Though Draco had kept his voice low, Hermione heard him. “I find the technical names of the flowers to be beautiful and eloquent.” Her eyes take on a dreamy, faraway look and I notice the nearly-invisible smirk form on Draco’s lips.
I never would have become aware of the budding relationship between Draco and Hermione if Pansy hadn’t taken a leap outside her comfort zone and began dating Ronald Weasley. Those of us who know Pansy best were shocked by the news at first, but love her enough to see he is what makes her happy.
“You are a hopeless romantic, Granger.”
And it is plain to see who makes my son happy.
Hermione grins. “I never said I wasn’t.” Draco and I both watch as she meticulously places one of the vases in the exact center of one large, round table. “Besides, these flowers are stunning; they deserve to be called by their proper name.”
I spent so many of my younger years in a home that showed no less than pure hatred towards those who weren’t of a pure bloodline. And at one time, I may have shared some of those views. It was not outside my comfort zone to call someone, like Hermione, a Mudblood.
I confess, however, that it’s hard to hate Hermione.
Draco sets a vase on another table, not nearly as centered as Hermione’s. “So, you’re saying that all things beautiful and stunning and so forth should be called by their proper name?” I know my son well enough to see he’s attempting nonchalance with his question; to me, the underlying meaning is bright as the midday sun.
“Of course,” she replies as she leans over to adjust Draco’s poorly-centered vase. “It shows respect, admiration, and appreciation. You, of all people, should appreciate and admire true beauty, Draco.” Her lips quirk into a smile.
It is so hard to hate her when I see so much of myself in her; she vivacious, quick-witted, and smart as a whip.
Draco smiles, a real smile - something I haven’t seen him do in years. “I do, Hermione Granger, I really do.”
It’s also extremely hard to hate someone my son loves so much.
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Word Count: 495
Notes: Round 2 Challenge #6 - Another Character's Perspective - written for dramione_ldws.
His Centerpiece
“Seriously, Draco, you can’t do that.”
“And why not, Granger?” My son’s response is as snarky as always, but the twinkle in his eye doesn’t go unnoticed… by me anyway.
“Because,” Hermione answers with a smile, “if Pansy catches you hovering her centerpieces filled with priceless, and rare, phalaenopsis, nymphea coerulea and neomarica caerulea, she will have your head on one of those shiny, silver platters.”
I want to chuckle as Draco rolls his eyes, but stop myself when he gently drops the floating vases anyway. “Leave it to you to give them their proper names, Granger,” he mumbles.
Watching them work together has become one of my favorite pastimes over these past few months. Preparing for Pansy’s wedding has been more… enlightening… than I could ever have imagined.
Though Draco had kept his voice low, Hermione heard him. “I find the technical names of the flowers to be beautiful and eloquent.” Her eyes take on a dreamy, faraway look and I notice the nearly-invisible smirk form on Draco’s lips.
I never would have become aware of the budding relationship between Draco and Hermione if Pansy hadn’t taken a leap outside her comfort zone and began dating Ronald Weasley. Those of us who know Pansy best were shocked by the news at first, but love her enough to see he is what makes her happy.
“You are a hopeless romantic, Granger.”
And it is plain to see who makes my son happy.
Hermione grins. “I never said I wasn’t.” Draco and I both watch as she meticulously places one of the vases in the exact center of one large, round table. “Besides, these flowers are stunning; they deserve to be called by their proper name.”
I spent so many of my younger years in a home that showed no less than pure hatred towards those who weren’t of a pure bloodline. And at one time, I may have shared some of those views. It was not outside my comfort zone to call someone, like Hermione, a Mudblood.
I confess, however, that it’s hard to hate Hermione.
Draco sets a vase on another table, not nearly as centered as Hermione’s. “So, you’re saying that all things beautiful and stunning and so forth should be called by their proper name?” I know my son well enough to see he’s attempting nonchalance with his question; to me, the underlying meaning is bright as the midday sun.
“Of course,” she replies as she leans over to adjust Draco’s poorly-centered vase. “It shows respect, admiration, and appreciation. You, of all people, should appreciate and admire true beauty, Draco.” Her lips quirk into a smile.
It is so hard to hate her when I see so much of myself in her; she vivacious, quick-witted, and smart as a whip.
Draco smiles, a real smile - something I haven’t seen him do in years. “I do, Hermione Granger, I really do.”
It’s also extremely hard to hate someone my son loves so much.